


Breathless

by GreyscaleCourtier



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Nude Photos, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Teasing, Terezi Has Had Enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleCourtier/pseuds/GreyscaleCourtier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Group meetings always tend to end like this.</p><p>Well, okay, maybe not with you in a storage shed with at least half of your clothes vanishing into the void. But pretty similar to that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> happy 18th birthday to my main bffsy. ur legal now. take this sin.

Your leg bounces.

You wish you could control it, especially since you’re crammed in between Terezi (who keeps giving these derogatory sniffs that you’re _sure_ are directed at you) and Roxy (who is wearing an astonishingly short skirt and her knee keeps touching yours). But try as you might, your leg bounces. It’s unfairly warm in here.

“…the library planning is going as usual,” Karkat reads off a clipboard at the front of the assembly hall. “We have ARquiusprite leveling the terrain, which is proceeding at a fucking ridiculous pace but at least he isn’t hassling anyone to feel his muscles.”

Roxy’s thigh tenses imperceptibly against yours and you can practically hear her lewdly snickering _You can feel my muscles if you want._ Your leg bounces faster. Sweat starts to form on the fine hairs at the back of your neck.

“Anyway,” Karkat gestures at Jade in the front row, “food ration update from the furry.”

Jade springs up. “Right! So until we know what season our new Earth is in, and how its rotation might have changed, we’ve decided on sticking to what we can raise in the greenhouses. The blueberry bushes—”

Fingernails trail ghostlike over your thigh and you do _not_ shriek, but you _do_ jump so violently that you knock Terezi’s cane out of her hands. Everyone turns to look as it clatters to the ground. You snatch it back up and pass it back to Terezi, mumbling something apologetic and hoping your face isn’t burning as bright red as it feels.

Jade, thankfully, plows right ahead. “The bushes are doing well, the pollination program is a success even without pollinators right now…”

The fingernails creep back, pinpricks of sensation through the thick denim of your jeans, but you’re ready for it this time. You manage to keep your face neutral even as Roxy’s nails track faint lines over your leg. Everywhere they go it’s like they leave heat tracks in their wake, burning even after they’re gone.

Roxy shifts in her seat, apparently just to get comfortable, and her skirt rides up just a little higher to expose another inch of pale thigh that comes back to press against yours. The sweat at the back of your neck starts to drip. You’re ninety percent sure Terezi is on to the both of you, and god help you you’re _trying_ to pay attention to the announcements, but Roxy’s nails creep dangerously high and set your nerves tingling and you can’t even remember what Jade was saying about the greenhouses.

Your leg apparently bounces just a shade too high and Terezi serenely whaps your shin with her devil-cane. You hiss and flinch away from her, and collide directly with Roxy’s shoulder on your other side.

Except she’d somehow turned halfway towards you, in Innocent Reaction to the noise (yeah right), and instead of bony shoulder you’re pressed into a soft breast with _definitely_ no bra underneath.

You whip back upright before anyone can even turn to see what happened. You aren’t even sure Terezi noticed anything after she’d hit you. Which is a blessing, considering you’re now desperately trying to will away an interested half-chub before anyone tries calling you up to speak.

Dirk’s up there now, saying something about how grist supplies are running low enough that they have to start rationing, running off with numbers and math that’s lost you in the first few sentences. Roxy’s nails start to crawl back up your leg again. The heat of the room is stifling and you can’t understand how anybody can tolerate it. You can’t be the only one here sweating to death.

“…xy and I can probably work something out,” Dirk says and suddenly her nails vanish as every head turns to you. “Right?”

“Right,” Roxy says like she hasn’t spent the last hour groping you. “I can work up to appearify medicine if you brush me up on some _chemistry.”_ She puts only the smallest emphasis on _chemistry_ , but it’s enough to set the first drop of sweat rolling down your neck.

“Do you have time to look over the formulas tonight?”

“Sure.” And she stands up, skirt swishing back down an inch, and you can’t identify the head rush that washes over you with the wave of cold air as she goes. “Lead the way.”

You scoot into her spot to give Terezi some personal space back and try to focus back in on the announcements as Roxy leaves with Dirk. You definitely _don’t_ catch a glimpse of something lacy and black before she pulls the skirt back down.

They haven’t been gone two minutes before your phone buzzes.

TG: what r u wearing

You glance at Terezi out the corner of your eye, but she seems engrossed in whatever gross alien thing Kanaya is saying about the mother grub’s egg.

EB: isn’t dirk with you?  
TG: yea but he doesnt wear interesteing shit  
TG: plus he gay as fuck  
TG: so i reiterate  
TG: what r u wearing  
EB: you were literally just sitting next to me.  
TG: mmmm yes i was  
TG: i saw u slide in2 my spot  
TG: u enjoying my butt warmth yet

You accidentally snort a little loudly and get an odd look from Rose the next bench over, so you quickly push the phone out of sight before anyone can accuse you of not paying attention. But the instant Kanaya mentions the phrase “embryonic mucus” you’re pulling it out again.

EB: i know nothing about your butt and i will never say otherwise.  
TG: u know what it’s wearing  
TG: i made sure u got a good look  
TG: n i SAW u look dont even fuckin pretend u didnt

You think about the black lace and have to swallow hard. The room is getting warm again.

EB: terezi is onto us, i think.  
TG: so what  
TG: shes just jelly she doesnt have ur attention  
EB: yeah, that might be a problem.  
EB: she has ways of getting attention and most of them involve her stabbing cane of doom.  
TG: she cant use it if ur locked in my room  
TG: i will protect u from tiny murdery daredevil  
TG: in my bosom

Terezi takes an exaggerated sniff next to you and you almost panic, thinking she’s caught a whiff of your conversation, but she seems fixated on Rose’s talk about cartography efforts.

TG: cmon i know u want this bosom  
TG: those jeans hide nothing on u son hate 2 break it 2 u  
EB: i got well acquainted with your bosom ten minutes ago, thanks.  
TG: yea ur welcome  
TG: theres moar where that came from  
TG: spefifcically 1 moar  
TG: 1 moar bosom  
TG: if u require proofs i can provide them

You take a deep, steadying breath and accept the fact that you’re not going to be able to will this half-chub away. Your only hope is to find an excuse to get out of this assembly hall before it gets worse.

TG: ur getting worked up arent u  
TG: better put a lid on it tiger terezis gon smell it all over u  
EB: i’m sure she already has. no thanks to you, miss subtle mcsubtlety.  
TG: i wasnt going for subtlety i was going for boner city  
EB: you do realize i have to be in the same room with your mom, right?  
TG: kinky

Rose is eyeing you with a look that suggests she at least _suspects_ who you’re texting, and Terezi has a smug quirk to her everpresent grin that makes you equal parts afraid and pissed off, but the phone hums in your hand again with _oh god it’s a photo message._ You swallow against a suddenly dry mouth and open it.

Dirk is blurry in the background, back turned to search shelves in one of the storage sheds. Roxy is crystal-clear in the foreground, hem of her shirt pulled up to her collarbones, round perky breasts bright pale in the camera flash. She looks downright devious, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

Speaking of what she’s doing to you, _wow,_ you should make an exit ASAP. You rise as quickly as you can manage, with the sudden dizziness of all the blood you own now draining out of your brain to go Other Places, and try your best to ignore the way Terezi’s grin widens. You’re _so_ going to catch shit for this later, but you can’t bring yourself to care through the haze gathering in your head.

“I, have a, uh, thing,” you manage as you edge out of the bench, ignoring the way Rose follows you with those eyes that can probably see straight into your sinful soul. “I’ll check back in, t-tomorrow, probably.”

“We’re not done yet,” Jane starts, probably put out that you’ve interrupted her talk, but you’re out the door before she can finish.

The night air is a welcome relief, the breeze blowing cold on your sweat-soaked skin. You take a moment to draw a deep, shaky breath and collect yourself before you even dare open the photo again to check the caption.

TG: come + get it

You can suddenly feel every place her fingernails touched you all over again, burning like fire through your too-tight jeans. The storage sheds aren’t far. You can probably get there before you spontaneously combust. Probably. The memory of that soft flesh against your shoulder with just thin fabric between you is still white-hot in your memory.

The storage sheds are really just thrown-together shacks with some shelving and labels. You approach them as quietly as you can, heat prickling down every nerve, feeling drunk after the hours of her taunting but still hyperaware that Dirk is around somewhere.

The thought dissolves as someone reaches out and snags your shirt with an iron grip, dragging you into one of the sheds before you can even squeak.

“Shut the door,” Roxy whispers ragged in your ear before her mouth descends on yours.

You grope blindly at the door until it clicks shut, plunging you both into darkness, and she shoves you up against it, her teeth worrying at your lip. When she fists her hands in your hair and pulls her body against yours, you can’t help but moan into her mouth.

That gets you a fierce bite to the tongue. “Keep it down,” she pants. “Dirk thinks I’m in here looking for calcium sulfate.” Then she grinds hard up against your hips and you suck in a gasp at the friction, and then you know she’s doing it on purpose just to be a tease.

When she seems confident you aren’t going to give away your position, her tongue slides down along your jaw to mouth at your neck. She trails her tongue lightly up to the sensitive spot right behind your ear and you helplessly grab handfuls of her thin shirt, choking back a needy whine, feeling goosebumps rise on your arms from the stimulation and her hot breath on your neck.

She sighs a dark _mmmmm_ and tugs thoughtfully at the hem of your shirt. Everything goes darker than usual for an instant, and then your shirt is gone. “Much better,” she murmurs into your throat, running her fucking magic fingernails down your bare chest. “A girl likes to see the goods.”

You can’t help but shiver as her nails raise hell on your too-hot skin, prickling and quivering. Her fingertips brush your nipples and you arch against her, biting your lip to keep quiet even as your eyes roll back. “Fuck,” you pant breathlessly, leaning your head back against the door. You need something solid right now, or you’re sure you’ll drown in the heady feel of Roxy’s fingernails down your ribs.

“Already?” she says, low and smirking in your ear. You bite back a desperate plea as she grinds against the bulge in your jeans again, harder than before. “God damn, I’m better than I thought I was.”

Your only response is a wordless whine instead of the _shut up it’s just been a while_ you meant to say. She shuts you up with her mouth, breasts pressing against your chest through her shirt, and god fucking damn it you know she’s just drawing this out to tease you, driving you insane but making you keep quiet or you’ll get caught, and _fuck,_ but you love it.

One of her hands comes up to tangle in your hair, forcing your head back against the cheap wood door, and the other rakes down your ribs to settle on your hip. It traces around your waistband and undoes your jeans button with a deft little twist, and you’re panting for breath by the time she gets around to dragging the zipper down, tooth by single metal tooth, keeping a vise grip in your hair the whole time to keep you from arching up into her hand the way you so desperately want to. You feel like a dog in rut, too hot, too cold, too _fucking hard,_ and you know she’s only getting started.

Her hand slips away from your jeans and suddenly she pulls you away from the door and pushes you back against a set of shelves before you even know where she’d gone. She grabs your hands and puts them both on a waist-high shelf at your back. “Keep them here,” she pants into your ear. Her hair tickles your cheek and smells like strawberry. “If they come off, it all stops. Got it?”

You get a better grip on the shelf and nod, too dazed for words.

“Atta boy.” She licks a wide stripe down your neck and your breath hitches when her firm nipples brush over your chest again.

Then she’s gone, and you open your eyes without realizing you’d closed them. Just as you do, her firm hands pull your jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion. You hardly have time to register the chill of the night air than Roxy wraps her lips around your swollen head and sinks down onto you.

Your hands go death-grip on the shelf as you struggle between holding on and trying to muffle the downright pornographic noises you’re about to make. “I… fuck, Roxy—” you manage before her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock and you cut yourself off in a shudder.

Her hands wander while she sucks you off, running up your thighs, grabbing a handful of your ass, probably-bewitched fingernails digging into your hipbones to hold you back when you try to arch into her mouth. She slips off you with a lewd pop and looks up from under her lashes, and there, there’s that devious grin on her swollen lips. “Right, I should mention,” she says and you die a little because you know you won’t like whatever’s next. “Dirk left before you showed up. Something about the alchemiter malfunctioning.”

You groan half in irritation, half because your cock is achingly hard and wet and starting to get cold. “I hate you.”

“Ooooh, Terezi’s gonna be jealous.” But she goes straight back to work, bobbing down far enough that the tip of your cock brushes the back of her throat. You moan shakily, still a little worried someone might hear, but all thoughts of being found fly out the window when she _swallows_ around you and you think you might pass out.

 _“Shit god fff_ —Roxy, I’m—”

She does it again.

Your knuckles go white on the shelf and your orgasm rocks through you, your vision whiting out for an instant as your brain short-circuits to _oh god oh god oh fuck oh my god._ You strangle out something that might be her name as you come down her throat, shivering and trembling even before you start to come down from the floating white-hot high she’s left you on.

When you do, you’re dizzy, flushed, drenched in sweat, and your hands are cramped and aching. You force yourself to let go of the shelf. There’s little indents in the wood where your fingers were. Damn. You didn’t know you could do that.

Roxy laps gently at your shaft, watching you through soft white-blonde eyelashes, still devious but smug, too, like she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. “You still didn’t get to grab a titty,” she points out, apparently talking to your slowly softening cock.

“Oh god, don’t, don’t even _talk_ about boobs right now, I can’t.”

“I bet I could get you up for round two, if I bothered to put any _real_ effort into it.”

“See, I’m sure you could, but the more important thing right now is _oh my god please don’t.”_ You shudder hard, overstimulated, as Roxy laves her tongue right over your hypersensitive head.

She grabs hold of the shelf and hauls herself upright. “You’re cute when you’re sex-drunk.”

“I’m always cute, and I’m offended.”

“Well, you can be offended here, or you can be offended in my room. It’s your choice.” There’s a weird zap in the air, and your shirt appears in her outstretched hand. “Either way, you have fifteen minutes before I’m going to bed, and your titty-touching odds go to zero. Well, I mean, you could try to touch someone else’s titty, but honestly they’re either related to you, or they’re dudes, or they’re aliens, or they’re my mom. So I’m really your only option.”

She leans forward and kisses you deeply, tasting like you and smelling like strawberry, and your limbs kind of turn back into jelly.

Then she breaks away, clicks open the shed door, and winks at you before vanishing outside. “Fourteen minutes!” she calls in a singsong.

You groan and reach for your clothes on the floor.


End file.
